Jump Into the Fog
by imagination junkie
Summary: Oneshot. Human AU. With their sordid affair revealed Alfred and Arthur are left with only two choices: crash and burn or leap together. USUK. Rated T for language and implied sex.


"Bloody hell, this place is a dump."

"Oh, shut up will you? It's the best place I could find in this town. Besides no one would ever dream of looking for us here," Alfred said over his shoulder before throwing himself facedown on the bed. He stood up again almost immediately, however, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Arthur glanced around the room in distaste. It was as filthy as the rest of the motel, the carpets stained with unknown substances, the walls stained with cigarette smoke, and the bedspread undoubtedly stained with all kinds of fluids that Arthur didn't even want to imagine. He didn't think he was brave enough to look in the bathroom. The TV was probably outdated by at least a decade.

"You know, I'm not even sure I care if we get caught. This place is just…" Even Arthur, with his boundless vocabulary, couldn't find an adjective to accurately describe his revulsion.

"Aw, come on Artie, you don't mean that," Alfred replied, a teasing smile on his face that forced Arthur to suppress a shiver of desire as Alfred stepped up to him.

"Yes, I do. And I hate it when you call me that."

"No. You don't." Alfred's tone was husky as he replied this time, his eyes closing halfway as he gazed lustily at the shorter man before him.

"Yes, I most certainly do."

"Just kiss me already."

Arthur happily obliged. It'd been far too long since they'd been together like this. His fingers tangled in Alfred's hair as their lips worked hungrily against each other. After several long moments of increasingly heated kissing Alfred guided Arthur to the bed, pressing him against it even as he started undoing Arthur's belt.

"I swear if I catch an STD from these sheets I'm suing you," Arthur gasped as Alfred slid his pants off.

"No, you won't," Alfred answered with a smirk before attaching himself to Arthur's neck, nipping and teasing with his teeth as his hands drifted towards the waistline of Arthur's boxers.

Arthur ignored the fact that he was right and chose not to respond in favor of unbuttoning Alfred's shirt.

…

Arthur took a long drag off his cigarette before exhaling, sending a long plume of smoke drifting towards the ceiling to add to the stains. He usually didn't smoke around Alfred- he knew the other man hated it. But there was just something about the post-coital glow that demanded one.

"Those things will give you cancer," Alfred said, rolling over to face Arthur before propping his face in his hand.

"Sod off," Arthur replied before taking a final drag and putting the still smoldering butt out in the ashtray on the table next to the bed.

With a groan Arthur rose to his feet. He was definitely going to be sore for the next several days, though he typically found it difficult to be annoyed with Alfred about it after one of their infrequent rendezvous.

"You're leaving already?" Alfred asked, pouting, as he watched Arthur pull his clothes back on.

"Yes. My wife is expecting me home for dinner."

"But Artieee," Alfred whined.

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped. He shoved his wallet into the back pocket of the ass hugging jeans Alfred adored before picking up his keys and striding to the door. "I'll see you at the debate on Monday," Arthur said curtly as a farewell.

"Wait!" Alfred cried. He pulled his pants on before bounding up to Arthur who stood in the open doorway.

"What?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows twitching irritably.

"Don't I get a kiss goodbye?"

Alfred was pleased when Arthur blushed. "Git! What if someone sees?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "No one's gonna see. We're hours from the city. Besides it's been two months since we've been able to get together like this and with the election who knows when the next time will be?" Alfred put on his very best puppy-dog pout. "Please?"

Arthur's blush darkened before he surreptitiously glanced around. "Alright," he huffed, standing on his toes and planting his lips on Alfred's.

Arthur had meant for the kiss to only be a peck, but he allowed his lips to linger, savoring the sensation and the taste of Alfred's mouth. They really didn't get together enough anymore. They were just so busy. The times when they could truly be _together_ were few and far between.

Finally Arthur pulled away. "Alright enough. That's all your getting." Arthur sounded annoyed, but his eyes twinkled with mirth. Alfred smiled tenderly in response and Arthur's face heated up even more. "Goodbye," he said, all but slamming the door in Alfred's face.

Alfred flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. Arthur was normally touchy after their meetings like this. It used to hurt Alfred's feelings, as he'd believed it was because Arthur was regretting what they'd just done. But as the years had passed Alfred had realized that it was really just Arthur's way of dealing with the feelings he wasn't supposed to feel. And he tended to be kind of shy anyways (at least until things started heating up), which Alfred found more adorable than off-putting.

But that didn't mean that Alfred never wished he'd get softer words and a kiss goodbye more often, instead. The other man was just too stubborn for that though.

…

Alfred F. Jones was never supposed to be gay. He'd been born into a small family in a tiny Southern town and raised on a diet of football, fried chicken, and church every Sunday. He called all his elders sir and ma'am, had been the star of every sports team he'd every played on, and had graduated from a good, small, conservative college, gone on to get his masters at another good, small, conservative college, and had been elected two years ago as his city's mayor. In short, he was everything his parents could ever have asked for in a son. Except for that one, tiny little problem.

No one knew. Except for Arthur of course. And his younger twin Matthew, who had walked in on them making out once when Alfred was in graduate school. Now he, mostly unwilling, helped keep their affair secret.

Alfred didn't like to keep his sexuality a secret, especially after being involved with another man for the past five years. But he didn't dare reveal their relationship. His parents would be devastated. He'd probably get arrested for having his brother impersonate him on multiple occasions. And once the scandal got out he'd never be able to run for elected office again. That just wouldn't do. Alfred had ambitions. Big ones. Not to mention Arthur wanted to keep everything under wraps for his own reasons.

If Alfred was being honest with himself he'd never intended to start a relationship with another man. He'd known he didn't like girls since he'd been aware what exactly the difference between boys and girls was, but from an early age it'd been beaten into his head that homosexuality was wrong and unnatural. Alfred had had every intention of carrying on with his life, suppressing his true feelings, until he found a woman he could stand to be around, got married, and started a normal family.

That was his plan until the fateful day in the final year of his graduate program when he'd run into the green-eyed British literature professor and spilled his coffee all over the other man's sport coat. Arthur had quite the temper, so needless to say their relationship had initially been quite rocky. But Alfred had been taken with Arthur and through persistence (and charm) they'd managed to develop a friendship.

Alfred had been the one to bring their relationship to that next level. They'd been hanging out at his apartment, drinking beers and watching Monty Python's Flying Circus reruns on PBS, when he'd leaned over and kissed Arthur. The next thing he knew they were in his bed, naked, doing things that Alfred had never done with anyone before man or woman. Initially Alfred had been horrified and kicked Arthur out, nearly ending their budding romance before it'd begun. But Alfred couldn't stay away from Arthur. He'd fallen in love with him without even realizing it.

Alfred sighed, wishing he could stay in bed and reminiscence about his happy memories with Arthur. But the room really did look dingy without Arthur's elegant presence- not that Alfred would ever admit he thought of him that way- and someone would almost certainly start to question his disappearance if he was gone for too long. The limelight of a public official definitely had its downsides when you were carrying on a secret, homosexual affair with a married man.

Alfred dressed and headed down to the tiny office that served as the motel's front desk, nearly stepping on a cat as he walked in. The desk itself was manned by a sleepy looking man with dark brown hair and olive green eyes. Several other cats were strewn about the room, including one in his lap. Alfred signed out, handed in his key, and pulled out his credit card to pay.

"I...don't need that."

Alfred looked up in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"I said…I don't…need that. The room's…been paid for." Alfred blinked in surprise as the man held out a folded piece of paper for him. "The guy…left this for…you…"

"Oh, ok. Thanks!" Alfred went back outside, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped through the doorway. It looked like the man had fallen asleep. Trying and failing to suppress an amused smile Alfred went back to his car before reading the note. It was handwritten in Arthur's neat script.

_Alfred-_

_You tosser. You can't pay for the room. Someone will get a hold of your credit card statement and we'll both be in hot water. And, yes, I knew you were going to use your credit card. You ALWAYS do. In any case, head back to the city and practice for that debate. I'll be there and I expect you to give that Russian bastard a good arse kicking._

_Arthur_

Alfred couldn't stop himself from grinning like an idiot. Arthur knew him so well. After all this time he really should have expected it to go like this. It happened every time, perhaps simply because neither of them ever got tired of it. It was part of the routine.

Alfred started his car and pulled out of the motel's parking lot. It wasn't far from the interstate and soon he was speeding down the road, cruising towards home. Arthur, the note, and the taste of him on his lips lingered with him the whole way.

…

Arthur Kirkland was never supposed to be gay. He was raised in an uptight, very religious English family and had spent his childhood chasing bugs, stuffing his face with fish and chips, and making rugby tackles. He had always been accused of being effeminate, however, what with his love for Shakespeare and his penchant for writing bad poetry. He'd covered his discomfort by constantly fighting with his four older brothers and going through a particularly rebellious stage during his high school years.

But he'd grown up, gotten as many degrees as he could stand to stay in school for in literature, and married a beautiful girl from a tropical island that he had met on holiday and only known for three weeks. He'd figured that was the end of it. The end of his unnaturalness. But it'd never been quite right. So he'd moved to America, searching for adventure and new opportunities. The job as an untenured, adjunct professor was what had brought him to the little Southern city he currently resided in.

While Arthur always claimed that he was looking for something different when he'd come to America, if he was being honest with himself he was really running away. The fact was that Arthur had always known that he was interested in men. But that wasn't allowed. If his parents ever knew they'd disown him and his brothers would ostracize him. He hoped that by playing manly sports and by marrying a beautiful woman he'd somehow be able to change himself. It hadn't worked. So he'd ran, hoping that by distancing himself from everything he'd ever known he could finally change what was on the inside as well.

When Alfred, the starry-eyed political science masters student, had spilled that cup of coffee on him all those thoughts had been wiped from his mind. He'd immediately been enraptured by the loudmouth American and his gorgeous blue eyes. Initially he'd wanted nothing to do with Alfred, both angry with him for ruining his best sport coat and afraid of the emotions he elicited. But Alfred had been persistent and soon they formed a close, if unusual, friendship.

Arthur knew he had a sharp tongue and Alfred was often on the receiving end of it, both then and now. The other man always laughed Arthur's scathing critiques off, however, and as much as he frequently annoyed Arthur he came to enjoy Alfred's company. As time passed Arthur realized that what he felt was more than just friendship- he was in love with Alfred. So, on that fateful night when Alfred had first kissed him Arthur let loose, doing things with him that he hadn't done with another man since he was drunk and high in the wild days of his youth as a teenage punk.

At first Arthur hadn't meant for it to be more than just that one night, especially after Alfred had kicked him out. But he'd soon realized that he just couldn't do that. Alfred was addicting, intoxicating, and when he'd called him, apologizing, and asked Arthur to come over and maybe, if he was open to it, they could do _that_ again, he hadn't hesitated to return. Arthur hadn't looked back since.

Not that their relationship wasn't fraught with danger. People in the city were very conservative and homosexual relationships were frowned upon, if not reviled. The college that Arthur taught at was religiously based and extremely conservative and he knew that if his relationship with Alfred was ever discovered he'd lose the tenure he'd worked so hard to achieve. And he would then be run out of town. Plus there was his wife, as well. He didn't even want to think about having to explain everything to her.

Alfred had his own plans to take into consideration. Arthur had learned very early on that Alfred's goal was the White House. He had no doubt that Alfred could get there one day if he played his cards very carefully. And being openly gay and in a relationship with another man, let alone a foreigner, was definitely not in a winning hand. So Arthur kept his silence, working hard to keep their secret for both their sakes.

Not that Alfred didn't make things more difficult. Arthur stepped out of his car, stomping grumpily into the gas station's convenience store to buy another pack of cigarettes. He'd paid for the room they'd used, making sure to leave a note for Alfred at the front desk because the idiot _always_ went and tried to pay for the room with his credit card when he left. Git.

Arthur lit a cigarette from the fresh pack as he stepped outside. He took a deep draw before leaning against the wall of the store and exhaling. Honestly, Alfred was infuriating. But Arthur loved him anyways.

Arthur was alarmed when a very familiar white truck pulled into the gas station and parked at the opposite end of the building. Hurriedly he dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, making a desperate run for his car as he frantically dug his keys out of his pocket.

"Hey! 'Pillar brows!"

Too late.

Arthur swallowed his groan and turned around to be greeted by his three least favorite people in the world. A man with platinum blond hair and red eyes was hanging out the driver's-side window of the truck, waving at him enthusiastically. It might have been considered friendly if he wasn't wearing that smirk.

"What? Arthur? You must be joking, mon ami!" Another face appeared in the open window. A man with blue eyes and long blond hair peeked underneath his friend's arm. As soon as he made eye contact with Arthur his lips stretched into a Cheshire grin.

The door on the other side of the truck opened and the face of a third man popped up over the roof of the truck. "Arthur! Como estan?" he called cheerfully, green eyes sparkling as a gust of wind ruffled his curly brown locks.

Arthur resisted the urge to slap his palm against his face. This was quite possibly the worst thing that could've happened to him right now. "Hello Gilbert, Francis, Antonio."

The three of them were the bane of his work life. There were also professors at the college- teaching their native languages of German, French, and Spanish respectively- though they had only been in the States for a couple of years. While Arthur had made it unquestionably clear on any number of occasions that he couldn't stand them Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio had, for some reason, attached themselves to him. He wondered if perhaps it was because they were all foreigners here. The fact that Alfred got along with them so well didn't help either.

"What're you doing all the way out here?" Gilbert asked as he stepped out of the truck, Francis and Antonio hot on his heels.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Pfft, please. You should be honored to be in my awesome presence." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"We were at the football game," Antonio replied in answer to Arthur's question. He really was the only one of the three of them that could be counted on to reliably give a straight answer to a question. "We won!"

"That's lovely," Arthur commented dryly.

"Indeed it is," Francis said smoothly, laying his arm across Arthur's shoulders. "But you didn't answer our question."

"Don't touch me, frog," Arthur snapped, ducking out from underneath Francis's arm and edging towards his car.

"So mean," Francis pouted before smirking smugly. "Now, tell us what you are doing all the way out here~!"

Arthur felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as the three other men watched him expectantly. Bollocks. What was he supposed to tell them? "I…I was at the football game as well."

"What? No way!" Gilbert cackled. "Why didn't we see you hanging out with Mayor Alfred then huh?"

"I'd really prefer that Alfred didn't know that I was thinking about appreciating American football. I'd never hear the end of it."

Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio exchanged glances and shrugged. He had a good point. Arthur let out a silent sigh of relief. Thank goodness Matthew was putting an appearance in for Alfred at the football game.

"In any case," Arthur continued, reaching for the handle on his car door. He was so close… "I need to get home. My wife is expecting me for dinner."

"Wait!" Antonio said, sounding as though he'd just realized something. Arthur would have almost sworn he saw the lit light bulb above the other's head. "If you were at the game, how come you didn't know we won?"

Arthur started sweating again as Gilbert and Francis turned suspicious glances on him. Antonio, bless his heart, was clueless and just looked politely curious.

"I left at halftime," Arthur lied quickly. "I tried, but I still can't stand that pitiful excuse for football."

At that Gilbert laughed. "Well you're definitely right about that! Anyways, see you around 'pillar brows!"

Arthur bade him and the other two goodbye- narrowly missing another embrace from Francis- before finally returning to the sanctity of his car and driving like a bat out of hell for home. He didn't think his nerves would be able to handle another encounter with anyone else he knew out here.

Arthur lit another cigarette as his drove, glad for its soothing effects. He thought about Alfred as his car rolled down the highway. How he wished he could be going home to him instead of his wife.

…

Arthur allowed his eyes to wander as the low hum of many people talking filled his ears. He was in the theater at the college where the debate- currently on a break- was taking place and it was packed. It was quite amazing that such a small thing as a mayoral election in a small city could draw this much attention, but if there was anything that the city's residents loved besides football it was politics. Arthur suspected it had something to do with the school's strong political science program.

Up on stage Alfred was relaxed, joking with his brother as Matthew, who was also his aid, tried to give him last minute pointers for the second half of the debate. He looked absolutely dashing in his suit and as always he was doing well, his charm and popularity easily winning the crowd over.

On the other side of the stage stood his opponent, Ivan Braginski. He was a very strange man. A second generation Russian immigrant, there had always been some suspicions surrounding his family and his own odd reputation didn't help. What business he had running for public office Arthur didn't know. Personally Arthur disliked the man intensely. There was just something…off about him. He was talking to his equally disconcerting younger sister Natalya in hushed whispers.

There was a crackle over the theater's speakers as the moderator turned his microphone back on. "Everyone return to your seats, please. We will be resuming in one minute."

From his seat in the third row Arthur had a good view of the man. He was tall, buff, had slicked back blond hair, and for some odd reason was Gilbert's younger brother. Ludwig was a political science PhD student at the college and was well known for his punctuality and adherence to protocol. When he said that the debate would start again in one minute, he met the debate would start again in _one minute_.

Everyone hurried to his or her seats. The lights in theater had just dimmed over the audience and Alfred and Ivan had just taken their places at their podiums again when Arthur's wife plopped back down in her seat. "Here," she said, offering him a bottle of water with a smile.

Arthur took it without looking at her, his eyes fixed on Alfred's confident form. "Thank you, dear."

Ludwig cleared his throat and spoke. "I'd like to thank everyone for returning to their seats promptly and Mayor Jones and Mr. Braginski once again for debating their beliefs and policies in an open forum like this. For the first half of the debate you discussed questions posed to you by me, which were drawn randomly from a pool of questions submitted by voters. In the second half you will be allowed to pose questions to your opponent. You will have one minute to answer before posing your own question. Mr. Braginski, you won the coin toss so you may choose whether you ask a question first or answer one first."

"Oh, goody," Ivan said. Though his tone was childlike it still managed to send a chill down Arthur's spine. "I think I will ask my question first. That's alright, da?" he asked turning to Alfred.

"Sure thing. Fire away, dude," Alfred replied with an easy smile. A chuckle rippled through the crowd behind Arthur causing him to grin. He honestly wasn't sure what the point of even holding the election was. Alfred was so popular that his win was practically guaranteed.

Ivan turned back to Ludwig who nodded at him. "Please go ahead, Mr. Braginski."

Ivan looked back at Alfred. He was smiling now, giving him an eerie, ominous look. "Mayor Jones, could you please explain your stance on gay rights?"

The theater was completely silent. You could've heard a pin drop on the other side of the building. Arthur held his breath as Alfred stared at Ivan, confused. He blinked once, twice and then said, "I'm sorry?"

Ivan's smile widened as he repeated his questioned. "Could you please explain your stance on gay rights?"

"Well, sure I guess," Alfred replied, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head, a classic sign he was uncomfortable. "But I really don't see how it's relevant to this debate or even to this election. Those kinds of policies aren't decided at this level of government."

"I disagree," Ivan said, his cheerful tone completely inappropriate for the tense mood that had fallen over the theater. "I think it's very relevant. In fact I think it's personally relevant to you Mayor Jones."

"What're you getting at?" Alfred growled, his tone icy. It was clear he was starting to lose his grip on his temper, his knuckles turning white as he grasped the edge of his podium.

"You're very good friends with Arthur Kirkland, da?" Arthur jumped as though electrified when Ivan mentioned his name.

"Yea. He's my best friend. What's your point?"

Ivan chuckled and Arthur suddenly felt the bottom of his stomach drop. He tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. "Well I think everyone should get to see just how good of friends you are."

The light from a projector flickered into life on the curtain behind the podiums. Ludwig rose to his feet, his face tight with anger, but Ivan held out hand to stop him. "I know this isn't normal procedure, but I think it is very important that the voters see who Mayor Jones truly is."

After a moment a picture flickered onto the projection. There was a startled gasp from the crowd and Arthur released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was certain he was about to be sick. The picture was of him walking into the room of the motel that'd met in on Saturday, with Alfred right behind him.

"This picture was taken this past Saturday around noon. As you can clearly see it is of Mayor Jones and his, ah, friend, Arthur Kirkland. Mr. Kirkland left the room several hours later." There was a dull click and the picture changed, showing Arthur saying something over his shoulder as he stepped out of the motel room.

"And then this happened."

There was another click and the picture changed again. This time it showed Arthur in the open doorway and Alfred, shirtless, in front of him. Click. Arthur glancing around. Click. Arthur and Alfred kissing. Click. The kiss getting passionate, their arms around each other. Click. Arthur and Alfred talking, Arthur red-faced. Click. The door closed, Arthur striding to his car.

For a very long moment the entire theater was silent. And then an angry roar erupted from the audience. The noise was rather dull in Arthur's ears, however, as they were currently filled by the frantic pounding of his heart. His only thought was to wonder how they got those pictures. He got his answer when he spotted Natalya smirking smugly at him over her shoulder from the front row.

Damn it! Why did he have to be such a bloody idiot?! Five years, five years! They'd managed to keep their relationship a secret for five years and just because that one time Arthur couldn't say 'no' to Alfred's puppy-dog pout it was all out. Arthur was furious with Ivan and Natalya. Arthur was furious with Alfred. But mostly Arthur was furious with himself.

"A-Arthur?"

Arthur flinched at the sound of his wife's voice and turned to see her staring at him with confusion and hurt in her teary eyes. As he stared the tears spilled down her cheeks and she began to sob and, for the life him, Arthur couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well Mayor Jones? Are you going to explain what is happening in these pictures?"

Normally Alfred would have bristled at the patronizing tone in Ivan's voice. But he was in far too much shock to even register the words let alone the meaning behind them. He stared, eyes wide and face pale, at the pictures that had just ended his life as he knew it. The audience behind him was in an uproar yelling and screaming threats and insults at him.

As if in a daze Alfred slowly turned to look out over the crowd. The noise increased. Now matter what happened after this it was very clear that Alfred's current life was over. He would never be elected to another public office again. He'd never be able to step foot in town without people hurling insults or punches at him. And he'd never be able to look his many friends and supporters in the eye again. Alfred's life was literally crumbling before his eyes.

He didn't know what to do. Vaguely he was aware of Matthew gesturing frantically at him from the front row. Alfred ignored him, instead seeking the eyes of the one person he needed most right now. Arthur. But Arthur wasn't looking at him, all his attention focused on his weeping wife. He looked just as lost as Alfred felt.

It was then that an odd kind of clarity came to Alfred. His life was over right? So what the fuck did it matter what all these people thought of him? There was one person in this entire theater that mattered and that was it.

"So you want an explanation, huh?" Alfred's question, tight with restrained fury cracked through the theater like a gunshot. The noise level rose and then abruptly died as everyone waited to see what he would say.

"Da. I would," Ivan replied, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"Alright. Fine. I'm gay. I, Alfred F. Jones, am gay. That was me and Arthur Kirkland in those pictures. I kissed him. Before I kissed him I had sex with him. And do you know why? Because I love him. That's right I am gay and I'm in love with Arthur Kirkland. And I don't give a damn what any of the rest of you think about it."

Alfred's pronouncement was met with stunned silence. Even Ivan was staring at him, baffled. Then someone in the back of the theater shouted 'Fag!' and everything erupted into pandemonium.

"Arthur!" a voiced hissed behind him. "What're you going to do?" Arthur turned around to see Francis staring at him in wide-eyed concern. Gilbert was glancing from the projected picture to Arthur and back again, while Antonio simply gaped at the picture.

The thing was that Arthur didn't know what he was going to do. So he turned back around without answering Francis. Alfred was staring at him. His eyes were hard but they were burning with a reckless light. For the briefest of moments Arthur considered denying everything. Considered somehow labeling the irrefutable proof Ivan had as doctored photos. Considered running as far from the theater as he could as fast as he could and leaving Alfred to his fate. But only for the briefest of moments.

Arthur rose as if in a dream. He passed his now hysterical wife. He passed Matthew who was sitting silent in his chair with his face in his hands. He passed Ludwig who was bellowing into the microphone in an attempt to restore some semblance of order. He passed Ivan, who watched him with narrowed eyes, without sparing him a glance. He came to a stop before Alfred.

Arthur looked up at his lover. The recklessness was still there along with determination and that particular set of his jaw that only appeared when he was dead set on getting his way no matter what. But Arthur saw something else in his eyes as they gazed at each other. A flicker of indecision. Of worry.

That annoyed Arthur. Did Alfred honestly think he was going to throw him under the bus?

Alfred didn't know what Arthur was thinking when he stood up and walked to the stage. And he didn't really have time to process what Arthur was doing when the other man reached up and grabbed the collar of Alfred's shirt. But he did understand what was happening when Arthur pulled him down and pressed his lips roughly against Alfred's. And he was full-heartedly for it, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and pulling him against his chest as he crushed their lips together.

The room was silent when they finally broke apart, both breathing hard. Arthur gave Alfred a roguish grin before turning and seizing the microphone on the podium.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland and you bloody well better believe that was me in those pictures. I'm gay too. And I love this bloody wanker." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Alfred, who grinned. "I don't give a damn what you homophobic pricks think about this either. So, if you don't like it, you can sod off."

It was true. Arthur really didn't care. The thought made him feel ridiculously free. They'd never be able to go back to way everything was after this. So he might as well face forward and move on. Because, really, what was his life of secrets and furtive meetings worth when he could openly declare to the entire city that he was in love with Alfred? Nothing, that's what. Alfred was what mattered.

The theater erupted again after Arthur snubbed his nose at them. Arthur reached back and grabbed Alfred's hand, intertwining their fingers together. Alfred squeezed the other's hand and Arthur smiled. Lord only knew what was going to happen to them now. But as long as they were together, well…who gives a damn?

* * *

_I've made some bad decisions, I'll admit that freely_

_It's just that life tastes sweeter when it's wrapped in debauchery_

_So drop your map, drop you plans, drop that five-step program_

_Because there's not an ounce of faith in this leap_

_It's clear you feel nothing so jump into the fog with me_

* * *

So this story was inspired by (and the verse above is from) 'Jump Into the Fog' by The Wombats. It's a good song. You should listen to it if you haven't heard it. Also this story will probably make more sense. Though I think it's actually supposed to be about some dude and a prostitute. Eh. My mind works in strange ways. And I am the only one who thinks the back up singing on the 'jump' in the chorus sounds like a dog barking?

Anyways…I wish I could say where this came from. I came up with this in the shower yesterday (apparently it's where I do all my best thinking) and it was, yet again, one of those things that needed to be written NOW. Despite the fact that I have all kinds of other stuff to work on. Like school work.

It's my first romantic USUK and I have to say I'm pretty proud of myself. And as much as this pairing initially weirded me out I really get it now. Yes I made Russia the bad guy. It's obvious but it works. I included the BTT because they're awesome. I included Greece because I wanted to. Arthur's wife is supposed to be Seychelles.

FYI I'm not trying to make any political statements with this. It's strictly for entertainment purposes only.

Please review! And thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


End file.
